Surviving
by winchester-co
Summary: Maia Garland just clawed her way out of an open hell's gate. She meets someone familiar at hells door, someone who can help her; but she had always prayed she would never see this one person ever again...can she ever forget the past? Set in Season 4, beginning only a short while before 'I Know What You Did Last Summer' and 'Heaven and Hell'. Dean/OC
1. Rising

Hello everyone! This is awesome, I've had this idea rolling around in my head now for a while but never known how to write it properly; I think I've got an idea now. Writers block has passed!br /br /I hope you like it; I spent an awful long time writing it and I've got loads of ideas for future chapters! Please R&R, I always like to hear feedback from my readers. I'm taking A level English and anything you can give me that will improve my writing would be greatly appreciated:)

Anyways, I shall leave you now; thanks ever so much for taking a look at this and I hope you enjoy the story!

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Chapter 1: Rising

Screaming. Pain. Burning.

There was no escape from it, not ever. The air so thick with the stench of blood you could almost taste it, mixing with the smell of burning sulphur.

Amongst the screams there were the screeches of delight and glee, demons so twisted and distorted by their time here that they thought nothing of hacking at a screaming and pleading human soul. They rejoiced in the pain they caused, greedy to unleash the fury from their own imprisonment.

Alone, in a dark corner of hell, I listened to all this. And I silently wept in despair. Decades of pain and fear, unrelenting agony that just never seemed to fade.

The offer I got at the end of every new day in hell, which was probably only a few hours topside I thought in despair, I was offered the same deal; you come off the rack if you torture those in your place. I could never say yes, could never allow myself to actually bring such pain onto other souls. The demons told me it felt good, to be without pain. But I couldn't remember a time when I hadn't been in unspeakable agony. I could never, ever stomach the idea of accepting their offer.

But god I wanted to.

Suddenly, I felt like something was pulling me forwards, propelling me from my place on the rack. I stared at my hands, stunned that I was free, and lifted my battered and bruised head upwards. My eyes widened at what I saw and I heard several screams of delight from around me.

A hell's gate was open.

I stared for a few moments, not quite believing what I was seeing, when I felt and saw other demons and spirits pushing last me to get to the door. Without even thinking, I pulled myself to my feet and scrambled forwards, towards the light of the hell's gate.

There were dozens of spirits and demons all trying to get out of the gate but I couldn't let myself be deterred; I had to get out. I couldn't stay here. I punched a demon viscously on my right and she fell to the ground. I saw her drop a knife and I scrambled to grab it before anyone else could. I was going to need it.

I punched, stabbed and downright clawed my way through the others who were trying to get past me, face a stony set of determination. My arms were becoming more bloody from the knife and face cut from the attacks of the others. In my heart of hearts, I was sorry that I had to be this way. But if I spent one more day down here, I was going to break. And I couldn't let myself do that. I couldn't be what these monsters had allowed themselves to become.

I was nearly at the gate and I felt both desperation and hope rise in me knowing that I was so close, SO close, to freedom.

With a last push, I forced myself out of the gate.

I'm not quite sure what happened during the transition of pushing through the gate to falling onto the soft grass of the devils gate, but I didn't care. I laid there for a few seconds before curling my hot, blistered hands into the cool grass on the ground under me. It was the most beautiful and wonderful feeling I will ever experience.

I just absorbed the moment for a few seconds, hardly daring to believe that I was out. It could just be another sick illusion that the demons had painted for me. But as I pressed my face into the cool grass and curled my fingers into the dirt, I realised that it was all real. I shut my eyes and exhaled shakily, finally relaxing.

"Hey, you all right?"

I tensed suddenly and looked up sharply. I was staring up at a very tall man with longish brown hair. He looked a little wary and though it felt bizarre and odd, considering I'd barely said a coherent word for the longest time, I spoke, albeit hoarsely. "Yeah... I'm good." At his continued look I sighed, too tired to want to speak. "I'm not a demon."

Sam thought for a moment and really looked at me before he relaxed slightly. "I can tell." I raised a brow in confusion, albeit curious, and inquired. "How?" He shifted a little uncomfortably but said nothing.

Realising I wasn't going to get an answer out of him, I inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh air greedily and exhaled a little shakily. I realised that I was still holding the knife and I threw it to the side, rolling onto my back and putting a bloody forearm to my forehead and resting it there. I stared upwards, gazing at the stars, and revelled for the first time at how beautiful the night was.

"Hey, watch where you're throwing that knife sweetheart!"

I stilled at the voice, feeling panic rise in me despite the lighthearted tone it was spoken with. I knew that voice anywhere. 'No, no, no, no, no!' I screamed inwardly, feeling a cold sweat forming on my brow. 'He got out, why would he be anywhere near a devils gate?!' Feeling my body numb in shock, I slowly turned my head to face he voice. My breath caught in my throat, stopping me from screaming.

Dean Winchester.

Looking into his eyes, those agonisingly familiar dead eyes, I felt my heart thud harder in my chest. He seemed to notice my reaction and frowned, making to take a step forwards.

Before I could control myself, I let out a frightened half scream and scrambled backwards. I couldn't look away.

Dean and the other man stopped, casting each other looks of complete bewilderment. Dean looked back to me and looked at me searchingly. Suddenly he froze and paled, mouth opening slightly in shock. "No...No, no, no..."

The other man sent his brother a worried look and came over to me a little with his arms raised. "We're not going to hurt you," he spoke soothingly, but it didn't work in the slightest. I cast my scared eyes to his and he paused, face scrunching in a puzzled manner.

He looked back at the still frozen man. "Dean...who is she?" Dean seemed not to hear him and continued to stare at me in shock and... Fear?

"Dean!" Dean started and flashed a quick look at his brother. He licked his lips a little and swallowed heavily before speaking with difficulty, voice strained. "She was... In hell. With me." I felt my lip tremble a little. I couldn't even express in words how afraid I was right then.

Sam's eyes lifted a little in understanding. "So... You saw each other there?" I let out a short, unamused snort that ended up sounding more like a sob than a scoff. "You could say that." Sam narrowed his eyes and looked to his brother. Dean sent him a long look and then Sam's eyes widened in horror and understanding. "Oh... Fuck." Dean glanced at me before lowering his head in shame.

I slowly stood to my feet, physically shaking as I tried to fight the urge to run away, as far as I possibly could. They'd just follow me unless I justified myself and I really, really didn't want that. Just being in Deans presence made me feel like I was being crushed. "Well- uh-" I let out a small choked sound. "I kinda just- I kinda just clawed my way out of hell so if it's," I swallowed as I looked at Dean before looking away just as quickly, wringing my bloody and scarred hands together. "If it's all the same to you, I'll just be on my way." I turned quickly, intending to just run in any direction, when a voice stopped me.

"Wait! Please, just... Just hold on a second."

I had already turned away so I just faced the woodland area before me with trembling hands and a wobbling lip. I didn't want to face him. I couldn't; it was too soon. "What?" I whispered brokenly, lowering my head. "What do you want?" Dean didn't speak for several moments and just when I thought he wouldn't say anything, he spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry." His voice cracked a little. I felt my body still in surprise; that was the last thing I had expected his to say. But then, when I thought I should have felt anger, I felt nothing. Just a dead, empty feeling that consumed my heart and soul, leaving me numb.

I turned slowly, trying not to let the tears make my voice waver. I shook my head slowly, tears slipping down my cheeks. "Don't you say that," I spoke hoarsely, voice struggling to stay straight. "Don't you dare-" I stopped talking then, a small sob working it's way past my lips as an aching pain blossomed in my chest.

Agony. The realisation that hell wasn't going to just fade away overnight; I was out, but I knew that hell would never truly leave me. Things weren't going to be okay, not right away. Heck- I doubted that I was going to be alright EVER. But I would have to try. Or pretend; I could hide the broken soul, bury it so deeply that I'd barely feel it.

But not today. I wouldn't be strong enough to do that for a very, very long time.

I shut my eyes tightly, inhaling shakily as I composed myself. I opened them again and saw that Dean's eyes were shining uncharacteristically, his jaw tight as he reigned in his emotions. His fists were clenched tightly, white and shaking a little as he breathed to steady himself.

I tried to sound as calm as possible in response, the throb in my chest becoming stronger and rising to the surface. "I had to live through decades of torture," I spoke quietly. "Years of pain at YOUR hands. But you know what? That's okay, " Dean's head snapped up to me, eyes shocked. I couldn't hold his gaze though and I looked away, memories of darker times at the forefront of my mind. "I can't judge you for giving in, not when I wanted to so badly myself. And the things they did to you..."

My voice shook for the first time. I shook my head, swallowing. But my voice took on a more steely tone now. "But what I don't condone is the fact that you liked it." I shook my head slowly. "You enjoyed every single moment of it. And for that, I'm not prepared to accept your apology." Dean nodded, face tight in an attempt to keep himself together. I continued anyway, needing to get everything off my chest. I needed some form of closure from one of the only sources topside I would ever get.

"I know who you are and what you do and I know the type of person you are; what you did down in hell was not you. I understand that," I transferred my gaze to Sam even though I wasn't addressing him. "You're a good person really. And now that you're with your brother, I think you'll be the same person again."

I looked to Dean and forced a small smile, but the effect was lost through the tears that I poured down my cheeks. "Goodbye Dean. I hope," I let out a cracked laugh. "God, I pray, for both our sanities, that we never see each other again. I don't think I'd be able to take it and neither would you." I gave one last look to my tormentor and then nodded at Sam who clearly didn't know how to deal with the situation.

"What's your name?" He asked quietly, looking into my eyes. I had to look away, almost physically pained to see the innocence and clearness in his eyes; the clarity and belief in the world that neither myself or Dean possessed anymore.

I sniffed and had to swallow deeply before what I said was audible. "Maia Garland," I whispered, though it was almost deafening in the silence of the clearing.

I couldn't take anymore of this; the mere presence of Dean in the clearing was eating away at me, driving me insane. "Goodbye." I turned and started running in the opposite direction, crying more heavily now that I was away.

I didn't stop running. I tumbled over logs, scraped my arms on tree branches repeatedly and still I didn't stop running. I couldn't. I just wanted to put as much distance between me and the hell's gate and Dean as I possibly could. They say you can't run from your past.

Well fucking watch me.


	2. Town of Angels

**Hey again everyone!**

**I just wanted to let you all know that I have been blown away by the response from you all; it literally made me cry, I was so pleased! Nobody's ever given me such a good response from one of my stories, and definitely not on my first chapter, so thanks so much! :') **

**I wanted to get this chapter up as quickly as I possibly could as a reward; same goes for next time! The more you give me the proverbial kick up the backside, the more quickly I'm likely to get a new chapter up because, more than anything, I hate letting people down. I really want you to enjoy this story!**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this; the second instalment of 'Surviving'! Thank you to **athiusa, toridw317, 0netflixme0 **and the **guest! **I loved seeing your, reviews xx**

**One of the things that was inquired about was why Maia is being so lenient towards Dean, considering his treatment of her in hell. I thought I should just clear that up; Maia has not forgiven Dean. Not in the slightest. She is afraid of him, does not want to see him again and just wants to move on with her life. **

**What she does, however, is understand why he did what he did; hell is unforgiving and excruciation. He did resist and he did try. Maia tries to understand that. She herself wanted to give in, but she didn't; the reason for which will be revealed later. But she still resents him for what he did to her, because, let's face facts here, he did so with very little regret when he was in hell. Dean says so himself in canon. **

**I hope that clears a few questions up! Feel free to ask any questions via my inbox or in a review and I will be sure to get back to you:) **

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 2: Town of Angels

A month has come and and gone since I'd seen Sam and Dean; I was eternally grateful to whatever deity was watching over me that I hadn't seen them.

The last month had found me in various places; for the first week, I'd staggered into a random town, passed out and then immediately been taken in by the pastors at the church there. When I came around they'd fussed over me and been immeasurably kind, in a way that I will never be able to repay them for. They let me stay with them until I had found a job and earned enough money to buy a small and very cramped apartment on the edge of town. It was VERY small and VERY cramped, but it was mine. And that was what mattered.

I had nightmares every night and I knew that that was not going to ever change. Not for a very, very long time at least.

I had made friends with the younger women who had looked after me within the church group, and they had been wonderful. They hadn't judged me for the state is been; they only felt regretful for the situation I was in. They wanted to help me. So I made sure that I tried to help myself get better. Everything was wonderful. The town was amazing, the people were kind and I had a steady job. All was going right with the world.

A month on from climbing out of hell and finding the town would once again flip my world upside down.

I had just gotten home from work, a busy day might I add, when I felt that something was wrong. I don't know how I knew, I just did; something about the air, the atmosphere, just felt WRONG. I was on edge immediately and reached into my bag to wrap a hand around the salt I kept on me wherever I went. I had walked forwards only a few steps when I heard the soft flapping of wings and a shift in the air behind me.

I spun around immediately and threw the salt at the body behind me. The salt poured over the form of a man in a trench coat, over his face and hands, but he didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.

Frozen, I took a few steps back but let out a small gasp when I hit another body. I turned only a little this time and saw that it was a large man of dark skin tone, looking down at me with cold and detached eyes. I raised a hand to defend myself but he moved more quickly; his closed hand connected with the side of my head and I didn't make a single sound as stars erupted in my vision.

Stunned and feeling dizzy, the nausea and pain overwhelming, I moved away from him, finding myself trapped between the two taller men. "Who are you?" I asked softly, afraid to speak too loudly. I clutched a hand to my throbbing head, hoping it would help ease the pain.

The man who I had originally run into spoke for the first time, surprising me with his voice. It was incredibly deep. "My name is Castiel and this is Uriel. We are angels of The Lord." My eyes widened slightly and opened my mouth a little to speak before shutting it again decisively. I would not say what I had been thinking out loud.

'You're lying. Where was he when I needed him most?'

"The Lord does not cater to the whims of a mere human," Uriel spoke monotonously, making my eyes widen further and heart flex in panic. They could read minds?

Castiel spoke again. "We want to know when you last saw Dean Winchester. Do not lie, we will know if you do so." I felt my throat constrict uncomfortably as images flashed in the forefront of my mind. I spoke honestly. "A month ago, perhaps a week or so over? I saw him only once when I managed to escape from the devils gate." I couldn't bring myself to truly put my neck on the line for the man who had tortured me so mercilessly down in hell, but my own morals and sense of dignity forbade me from selling him out completely.

Whilst I knew nothing, I would refuse to help the angels find him. Whilst I resented and feared him for what he did to me, I wanted him to be able to live his life again topside again like he used to, because that's all that I wanted for myself. I had nearly said yes so many times that I couldn't really judge him too harshly. Or I tried to at least; I wanted to believe that there would still be some good in him. He had lasted a long time, longer than most, and I had to remember that. He had tried.

Uriel sneered. "Not going to help us? The very man who terrorised you in hell?" I was quickly losing my respect and awareness of the fact they were angels and starting to losing my patience. The pain didn't help my usually resilient temper.

"I was under the impression forgiveness is the main grounding of the Christian belief system." I spoke quietly, with a hint of irritation. Uriel chuckled and smirked mockingly. "In the New Testament maybe. Try reading the whole bible; it might change your opinions on the Christian faith and it's God." Castiel watched me silently.

"But you have not," Castiel spoke so suddenly and quietly, that it immediately drew my attention. "You haven't forgiven him yet." He regarded me for a moment longer before his eyes lightened in realisation. "You're want to though." My eyes widened as I stared at him. "Deep in your heart and soul, you want to. You're trying to remember that you could be in the same-"

"Stop." I interrupted suddenly. "Just... Please." I silenced the angel. I shut my eyes briefly. "What do you want?" I asked wearily, holding out my arms at my sides. "I've not done anything wrong. Not here and not in hell, so why have you followed me?"

A hand clapped on my forehead and I was suddenly hurtling forwards, moving so quickly I couldn't quite comprehend what was happening.

When my feet came back down to Earth, pain erupted in my head. Disorientated, confused, and suddenly feeling overwhelmingly nauseous, I shoved away the hand still on my face and collapsed to the ground onto my knees, heaving up the contents of my stomach. My eyes stung at the pain in my chest and stomach and I couldn't stop myself from heaving again. The insistent throbbing in my head nearly silenced every other sound.

"Get up," Uriel hissed, looking at me in disgust. "Move mud monkey!" Even though I still felt very sick, I knew that I had no other option. Trying to ignore the dizziness in my head, I staggered to my feet and held my midsection in an attempt to keep it from losing the rest of its contents. When I tried moving forwards, I stumbled a little and nearly fell. I staggered forwards, trying to keep my eyes open as I focused on Castiel and Uriel in front of me. It may have been my imagination, but I think Castiel looked a little... Concerned?

Darkness closed in on my vision and I forced myself to stop, the world spinning, and sat back on the ground, bringing a knee to my chest and resting my throbbing head on it. Quietly groaning in pain, I realised I wasn't going anywhere. If Castiel or Uriel wanted me to move, they were going to have to help me. Because I definitely couldn't do it on my own.

Uriel made to move forwards a step, hand outstretching threateningly, but Castiel intercepted him, placing a careful but firm hand on his arm. I heard an irritated sigh and hushed whispers.

"The girl is of no more use to us Castiel! She's holding us back-"

"You are the one that injured her brother! Her futility in this situation is through no fault of her own. In any case, she still has a use; Dean Winchester will not allow any harm to come to her, not after what he did in hell. You know of the immense guilt he feels-"

Oh, Dean feels guilty for torturing me? At least he managed to salvage a scrap of his dwindling humanity...

"Come now Castiel-" "No Uriel, I am decided; the girl remains with us. She will be useful, I swear to you."

Uriel let out a frustrated sigh and I heard him begin to stalk away. Quiet footsteps approached me and I looked up blearily, seeing the blankness of Castiels face come into view. "I am going to lift you," he spoke monotonously. "Please do not struggle."

I didn't say a word in return, still afraid of losing my dinner, but we both knew I would do nothing; I couldn't move without feeling the pain in my temple. Cas reached down and curled his arms around my waist and under my legs. Slowly, and with seemingly very little effort, he lifted me into his arms with a gentleness that I didn't understand.

But what I did understand was that Castiel was far kinder than Uriel; that gave me hope for the angels.


End file.
